A Belly Full
A Belly Full
Christmas Eve, festive shop windows
cast glee on sleet, huddled in a doorway
as seeking the fading warmth of people
in a hurry to get home, an old man sits,
looks a window display of phony happy
Santa Clauses.
Tomorrow they’ll be brought down to
a dank crypt, oddly smile in darkness
with rats nesting in their vacant bellies,
while he- the real one- will carry on as
the town’s longest living drunk for one
more year.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Zoo Animals
Zoo Animals
Jubilant Tripoli
Guns in every unsure hand
They call it freedom.
While zoo animals go unfed
A Kaddafi son cared for them.
It doesn’t matter now
Do not prioritize beasts
They are dumb beings
And have nothing to offer
In our blind struggle for freedom
And global capitalism.
So set the camels free to find
Their own oasis; let the lion
Roam the vast hinterland
And the eagle, soar high above
Human’s murderous pursuit.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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From Teheran with love
From Teheran with Love.
Side by side the beaus stood, hooded and
silent, they no longer heard charivari chants as
prayers on pale, shivering lips abruptly ended.
They had been warned, their love was banned
by the law of the land and by straight people’s
norm, and now forsaken even by their families.
They had tried to conform, but their bond was
too strong. Two Iranian men twist in the wind,
will their mothers, when alone, pray for them?
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Snowman
Snowman
I’m going to Sapporo next year to build a snowman
and win a prize, get my picture on the news and
be interviewed by David Frost.
I will not be arrogant and look down on ordinary
people, but everyone will notice that inner glow and
say: Truly there walks a famous, yet humble man.”
For I know, as you do, come spring my snowman will
melt, and only you admiration for the famous will
prevail, until someone builds a bigger snowman.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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The Scream
The Scream.
The new and young couple next door, for whom
all car adverts are made, came home late last night,
high voiced and full of spirit. Later on I heard her
cry out loud and thought: “wine, a man who slaps
his wife around when drunk.”
Next day I saw her in their cute little garden, she
wore the right outfit to prune roses, laughed
called her hubby darling and I remembered that
the voices of love and pain sound alarmingly
the same.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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The Great Encounter
The Great encounter
The mountains, that kept the sky from strangling us,
has all but disappeared. The sky has now swallowed
the roof of our houses. It is alarming, to be squished
between soil and sky as they embrace with selfish
lust in their hearts; finally intercourse. We must prise
them apart by building egocentric Dubai towers and
boasting Malaysian skyscrapers, to keep the sky pure,
and not let it sink into debauchery with mother earth.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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The Sentinel
The Sentinel
Another night begins and thoughts run riot, memories,
the shadow land called the past. Useless, experiences
have to be lived in the now, no room for reflection when
it happens. We have to live in our mistakes, when we
thought we were right. As night end and morning begins
I will reflect, when the sun comes over the Spanish hill.
But my distress is total the night will not leave its terror,
and the past seems like a better place.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Dance Partners
Dance Partners.
A fox asked the flamingo up for a dance, but the bird
was coy and refused. A gray legged wolf promised to
to stand guard should the fox get frisky.
A match made in heaven, fox and flamingo swooned
and forgot their enmity. That’s when the wolf saw its
chance and mortally interrupted their tango.
How foolish the unlikely pair had been, thinking
nature could be bypassed, even for a brief moment,
in the name of passion and romance.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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The Gallery Owner
The Gallery Owner
He had been to the doctors
nothing could be done, they are
not magicians and he had
a painting exhibition at his
gallery tonight.
Sat in his chair leaning left,
less pain that way, some thought
he had had too much to drink.
In the night he was saved
from further agony,
a sudden heart attack.
Many people came to his
funereal, a lyrical lady singer
sang about love and loss;
there were tears;
[...] Read more
poem by Oskar Hansen
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August Mood
August Mood
Rumours has it that she has died and
I have not the courage to go find out.
What I remember of her goes back
fifteen years and the world is no longer
the same; especially not here, in this
transient tourist place, where no one is
remembered long and misfits settle till
they find this place is no paradise and
seek other shores for their impossible
dreams. I will rest easy in my cowardice
and do nothing. but remember her and
a summer of yore.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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